When I woke that Saturday morning, I still ached all over. But it was a good ache; an ache that reminded me of the amazing experience I had had at the rugby club. But it was the phone ringing that got me out of bed--not many people use my landline, most use my mobile (cell phone, to my American readers). My mobile's by my bed. The 'real' phone's in the living room. Anyway, I jumped out of bed and tried to put on my dressing gown as I dashed through to the living room, but the answer phone had already kicked-in as I got there. "Hello, dear--it's your Auntie Mary. I do hope you're all right. Just wondered if you could give me a hand? There are some things I really need to get out of my loft and--what with my knee replacement last month..."

"Hello Mary. Sorry--couldn't get to the phone quick enough."

"Oh hello Nicki dear. How are you? I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, no." I lied. I was still trying to get my second arm into the dressing gown; I groaned as the aching was worse when I stretched.

"Something wrong dear?"

"No, no." I lied again, now tying my dressing gown closed. The silk felt cold against my skin and had my nipples standing erect. "I am just feeling a bit stiff this morning."

"Oh, I see. Well. Did you hear my message?"

"Something about needing some help with some stuff in your loft?"

"That's right dear." I sat down in my favourite arm chair. "Could you help? I'll make you a nice cup of tea for your trouble."

Well, I really like my Aunt Mary, and I didn't have any plans for the day. "Of course. I was just having some breakfast--so I could be there in an hour if you like?"

"That would be perfect. I'll be sure to have the kettle on."

When I put the phone down I sat there, silent, relaxed. Spending the day with Aunt Mary would be fun. She had some fascinating stuff in her house and I thought rooting through her loft would be great fun. But every time I moved, I was still aching. I had time for a cup of coffee or a little play; either would perk me up for the day. I leaned back in the chair, opened my legs and made the only sensible decision. My hand traveled lightly across my body, brushing nipple and breast--I pulled apart my dressing gown--fingernails grazing my belly, and brushing through my pubic hair. My index finger found my clit and started to tease. I closed my eyes--making coffee was too much effort. I pinched my clit and cradled my breast with the other hand; twisting and pinching my nipple made me gasp. I could feel the hard button of my clit was throbbing and, when I pressed down on it and started rubbing, I had to bite my lip so as not to squeal.

Nice and slow, Nicki, nice and slow. I lifted my legs onto the arms of the chair (why do you think I like it so much) and slipped a finger inside my cunny. Slowly in and out, imagining a rugby player's cock; one finger became two and my other hand started pressing hard on my clit. Even with my eyes closed, I felt like I was seeing fireworks. My legs ached up on the chair arms, but it meant I could slip a third finger into my pussy, now that it was really wet. In my minds eye I was back in the van surrounded by those rugby players, and my heart pounded with the remembered excitement.

I opened my eyes and looked up. My net curtains only go up to head height at the bay window--enough to give me privacy from the street. But the third floor windows across the street could look down on me--especially when I sat here. I had never noticed before, and now I saw someone looking down. Did they know I'd noticed? I looked away, without trying to seem too obvious, and, out of the corner of my eye, realised they had binoculars. I was giving them a free show. Perv.

Smiling inwardly, I decided to have fun with it. I popped back to the bedroom and returned moments later with my favourite big black dildo. I sat back down in the chair, lifted my aching legs back onto the arms and slowly rubbed the tip of that lovely black cock against my clit. I felt my pussy throbbing, and bit my lip. When I could bear it no longer, I slipped it into my cunt and looked directly at my admirer and winked. That made my heart race! Well, I fucked myself faster and faster, with my other hand switching from clit, to nipple and back again, until I was writhing and sweating in that armchair--the silk of my dressing gown delightful against my arse. Finally, with an almighty push I rammed the whole length of the dildo into my cunt and arched my back as I came. Oh God it was good! And the frisson added by my admirer made it all the better. Wonder if I have seen him on the street...

Anyway, when I looked at the clock I realised I would be late for Aunt Mary, so I went commando--T-shirt with no bra, skinny jeans with no knickers and a pair of plimsolls. Skipping down the stairs I went around the back, got into my car (that made my bum ache) and I drove over to Mary's.

...ooOoo...

She answered the door in a Harris tweed skirt and a silky blouse, seamed tan stockings and low heels. Her hair was salt and pepper and cut quite short.

"Hello Mary."

"Hello dear. Do come in!"

I hadn't really known Auntie Mary as I was growing up. I only met her when I came to university. Mum gave me her address in case I got lonely (me?). Anyway I saw her every six months or so as I went through uni. She had the kettle on, as she'd promised, so we sat down in the living room with our cups (not mugs) of tea and a few biscuits (breakfast for me).

"So how is your knee?"

"After the op, it's fine. The important thing is for me to keep moving, keep exercising. But getting into the loft was just too much. That's why I called--well, and also because it has been ages." she smiled. "There are three boxes of old books that I have promised to a sale at the church. It would be such a help if you could get them down. While you're up there you can see if there's anything that's of any use to you my dear."

I finished my tea and Mary showed me how to get up into the loft. Luckily there was a single bare light-bulb to give me some light and the loft was boarded. it smelled dry and musty, and the covering of dust told me it was years since anyone had been up there. The light-bulb cast weird shadows across the boxes and bric-a-brac around the place. It didn't take me long to find the boxes that Mary wanted: they were very efficiently marked 'Books' and left in a pile. I put them by the hatchway and started to have a poke about.

If you look at anyone else's stuff it can be hard to understand why they've kept it. But some of Mary's clutter was really nice and considered retro now. I found some nice seventies pottery, lots of bold patterns in earthy colours, and a great table lamp that just needed a new shade. I had just got those treasures by the hatchway when I noted a box of old postcards. Well, that was a treasure as far as I was concerned and so I started looking through them. They were great--Mary had friends who had traveled all over the world and sent her postcards. Every so often there'd be a raunchy one: a couple of bare bottoms on the beach, or a smiling topless girl in a sun hat. I flipped those over and saw they were all signed 'R'. Interesting. R never said much, just 'thinking of you,' or 'wish you were here.' But always a big kiss under the R.

Well, I got to the bottom of the postcard box and there was a little notebook. When I picked it up, I didn't really know what it was. I opened it to take a look, and that's when the picture fell out. It was the same size as a postcard, but... well, it was a nude woman, wearing a gossamer dressing gown (and nothing else); it was completely open. The woman was demurely looking away from the camera, but her nipples were pointing straight out (at me). When I looked closer, I realised--it wasn't any woman, it was Auntie Mary. OK, so the picture was thirty years old, but it was Mary! Same face (long straight nose, high forehead, big eyes); the hair was different, more of a straight black bob. But there she was! My little old lady auntie had posed in the nude!

I flipped over the postcard and, in the same hand as those postcards, the single word 'Gorgeous', signed R. My heart started to beat faster. I slipped the picture back in the notebook, and saw the title page. It was a journal; Auntie Mary's diary. I flicked through it--I know it was wrong but I couldn't help myself. I saw an entry:

"Scheduled for Singapore on Friday. with R! Wonder if it will be like Bangkok..."

Scheduled for Singapore... Was Mary a trolley dolly? A flight attendant?

"How is it going Nicki love?" God she was right below me at the bottom of the ladder. Made me jump a mile and my heart beat faster still. I started blushing too; I was feeling bad about reading her diary.

"Fine! I found the books."

"Oh good--that's great! Find anything you want to keep?"

"Um. Well some old crockery and a table lamp. Is that OK?"

"Why don't you bring them down, dear?"

So I did. I couldn't really ask Mary for help so it took a few trips. By the time I was finished and had everything downstairs I had worked up a bit of a sweat--and it really ached when I moved--especially putting my arms above my head. Those rugby players had a lot to answer for! Thinking about the journal and the photo had got me worked up a bit too, so my nipples were standing out through my T-shirt.

"Thank you so much, Nicki dear. Why don't you come out into the garden and have a cold drink?"

So we sat out on the patio. Mary must have noticed how stiff I was as I sat down and took a sip of lemonade.

"Are you still feeling stiff?"

"Yes."

"What was that--too much vigorous exercise without warming up?"

"Something like that."

Her smile seemed knowing. Like she could see right through me, like she knew why I was so stiff and achy.

"You went very quiet up there. Did you find something interesting?"

My face went bright red. I couldn't help myself. And my nipples were already poking out like thimbles. I fumbled for my drink and almost dropped it.

"I think you did. Didn't you?"

"I did find a box of postcards."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Who's R?"

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Oh. Those postcards." She took a sip from her drink, "Well, I'll tell you what. If you tell me why you're so sore, I'll tell you who R is."

I was intrigued. But not that intrigued. Telling my mum's sister that I had taken on a whole rugby team after blowing some random bloke to get a lift back to Brighton... That wasn't going to happen.

"I'm not sure I want to say."

There was as pause, then Mary put down her drink, leaned forward and touched my knee. "Tell you what. Let me start with another little secret."

My eyes widened just a little, and Mary went on. "I am not your auntie. I have been in name, but we're not relations. Your mum and me go way way back, and have had a... varied relationship. But always close. So when you were coming to the South coast for university, she told you I was your auntie."

"Varied relationship?" I asked.

Mary smiled enigmatically. "One secret at a time."

She really could bear silence much better than me. There was another long pause, then she sat back, crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt and looked at me. "So whatever you tell me, stays between us."

"I... Err... My car broke down."

Pause. She was looking straight at me. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'And?'

I sighed. I'd have to tell her some truth. I thought she'd see through me if I lied; with those piercing eyes.

"Well, I was in the middle of nowhere and my clutch went. And I didn't have my phone." I paused.

"Why not?"

Good grief--she could read minds. She knew I didn't want to say why I didn't have my phone. "No pockets."

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"I was wearing a tight fitting... catsuit."

"Really!"

I nodded.

"What kind?"

My heart was pounding, I was blushing bright red, cheeks burning.

"Latex."

She smiled--Mary smiled back at me. And visibly relaxed. It was as if she knew I was telling the truth because it was so uncomfortable for me.

"I am sure that... Attracted some attention?"

I nodded.

"And that... Someone offered you some... Aid"

I nodded. "A man..."

"That, I would have guessed my dear." Now she was smirking.

"Gave me a lift back to town to get my phone so I could phone a friend to come help."

She nodded.

"And why were you aching as a result?" Shit. Nothing that happened except with the rugby team would make me ache like I did. "Mmm?"

Another pause. Waiting for my answer. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Then the door bell rang.

"Well," said Mary, "we both know the saying." She grinned and got up to answer the door. A minute later I heard voices. Mary's and another--a familiar voice... male.

"Hello." said Mary. She knew whoever it was and seemed pleased to see them.

"Hello, Miss."

"Is something the matter?"

"Um... Well..."

"Perhaps you'd better come in."

I heard footsteps and voices. The man said, "I was just wondering why my car was in your drive..."

I turned around and saw Nigel following Mary through. I smiled in recognition and Mary realized, "Oh. You two know each other then."

I nodded, "Yes--I bought my car from Nigel." I turned to him, "Hi Nigel."

He smiled back at me, "Hi Nicki--how's the clutch?"

I started blushing, "Oh--fine, fine thank you. Works a treat."

"Nicki was just telling me her car had broken down when you arrived." smiled Mary. "Nigel, I don't need you now--I got Nicki to come help in the loft. Thanks."

Nigel seemed nervous. "Right Miss. And you don't want me for... Anything else?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, glanced at me and back at Nigel. "Well... perhaps."

"Thank you, Miss."

Thank you? That's odd. What is going on?

"Come over here," said Mary, "You can listen to Nicki's story."

Mary sat down again, and motioned to Nigel. He walked over beside her, then knelt next to her chair. Like a... Well, I don't know what: a dog? A servant? A slave? I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was there with his eyes lowered, completely comfortable. I was on the edge of my seat, wondering what was going on. Mary straightened her skirt again and turned to me. "So, Nicki. It seems you weren't saved by the bell after all. You were broken down in the country, with no phone and you were dressed in a latex catsuit." Nigel flinched. Like he knew he shouldn't move, maybe like he wasn't supposed to be listening, but couldn't help himself. "Now now, boy." said Mary.

"Boy?" I thought. "Boy?"

I was looking at Nigel, but Mary was looking at me. When I realized, I started blushing again.

"I... I tried to work out what was wrong with the car and had the bonnet open when this bloke came along."

"Uh huh?"

"I asked him for a lift so I could get home and use my phone to call Nigel. I didn't know his number."

"I see."

"And he did. He gave me a lift."

"That was very kind of him. For a complete stranger." She paused. "Though I suppose you were a complete stranger in a latex catsuit."

My face was burning and my heart was in my throat.

"I can't imagine what he thought of you." She put her hand on Nigel's head, "Can you, boy?"

"No Miss."

"Have you ever seen Nicki in latex?"

"No Miss."

"I bet you'd like to though, wouldn't you?"

"Yes Miss."

Mary grabbed a handful of Nigel's hair roughly and pulled his head up. "Good. You know not to lie to me, don't you?" Nigel tried to nod as best he could. "But you're having lustful thoughts about Nicki aren't you?" He closed his eyes this time, and nodded. "So what do you have to do when you have lustful thoughts?"

She let go of his hair and he stood up. He walked into the house in silence. Mary looked over at me.

"I am sure you're wondering what's going on."

"No kidding!"

"I am Nigel's Mistress. His... Dominatrix. Right now, he is going into our special room and taking his clothes off. He'll be bending over a stool and waiting for me to come and punish him."

"Wow."

"By the time I have whipped him for a few minutes his cock will be hard and throbbing; but he won't cum until I give him permission." She looked me right in the eye. "How does that make you feel?"

She held my gaze and seemed to relish the uncomfortable silence between us. It was as if she already knew my answer and was daring me to deny it. "It makes me feel very horny. My heart is beating very fast and I am dying to watch what happens with you and Nigel."

"Then follow me." She stood up from the patio table and went back into the house. I followed her up the stairs to what I had always assumed was a spare bedroom. My heart was pounding as we reached the door, and there was Nigel, just as Mary had said he would be. Stark naked and kneeling over a stool. Mary smiled at me, and said, "Just watch, Nicki." She undid her blouse revealing an ivory satin bra and matching waist cinching corset and knickers. The corset held up her stockings; revealed when she slipped off her skirt. My goodness, she was magnificent. On a hook over the back of the door was a riding crop. She took the crop, and held both ends in her hands so she could flex it. Then she made a few practice swipes with it; Nigel's bum flexed as he heard the swishing sound of the riding crop. This scene took me right back to my limited experience as a dominatrix. But my--how much could I learn from Mary! I glanced around the room at the paraphernalia; I couldn't imagine anyone had ever slept in here. There was a small cage in the corner, and a big wooden cross (like a capital X) leaning against one wall. But I could hardly take my eyes from Nigel, kneeling over that stool, and Mary with her riding crop.

Whack! The first of Mary's swipes landed on Nigel's arse and he almost jumped; his whole body contorted as he felt the force of Mary's crop. He had hardly had a chance to recover before, Whack! The next one hit him. Her timing was immaculate. Each time he thought his beating was over, each time he relaxed, or even seemed like he might start to relax, Mary's crop hit him again. I could see the red wheals starting to form on his arse. When there were a dozen or so marks criss-crossing his bum, Mary broke the electric silence. "Now, Boy. Stand."

Nigel stood up. He had a raging hard-on. Not just fully to attention, but throbbing, twitching, glowing red and shiny. He was a good eight inches and almost vertical. Mary slid her crop between his legs, teasing the tip across his thighs. Then she lifted Nigel's balls with the end of the crop, and he gasped. She gave his balls a small tap with the crop and Nigel winced. "You're still lusting after Nicki, aren't you boy?"

"Y..y..yes Mistress."

I bit my lip. I was so horny, so hot. I was sure there was a damp patch in the crotch of my jeans.

"But you're mine, aren't you Boy?"

"Yes Mistress."

"I think you need to prove that to me."

"Yes Mistress."

"Go over to the cross." He went without question. He knew what was expected. He raised his arms and spread his legs, so they formed a cross that mirrored the wooden one. There were leather shackles at his wrists and ankles and Mary soon had him bound; Nigel could barely move. But his hard-on had not diminished. She turned to me, "Nicki--this Boy has to prove himself to me." I nodded, almost in a trance. "I'd like you to do your very best to make him cum. You can do anything you like as long as he stays tied to the cross. If he is good, I will let him cum afterwards. However, if you are successful, I will punish him severely."

I was in a trance! I know that I had previously attempted to seduce Nigel, to get a good price on my car--but it hadn't worked. Now, here I was with a woman who, until half an hour ago I would have sworn was my auntie, and she was telling me to try to make Nigel cum. Nigel, who's cock was painfully erect but, if he did cum, would be punished for it. My God I was hot. I walked over and stood in front of Nigel. Mary was standing further back, flexing her crop. I smiled at him, but he didn't want to catch my eye. I held his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look at me, then I plunged forward and kissed him--mouth to mouth with my tongue exploring his. I felt him almost quivering with fear--or was it anticipation. When I pulled away from kissing him, I had his attention. His eyes were fixed on mine. Whether he'd been told or not, he didn't dare speak to me.

I reached out and pinched his nipple. Pinching then twisting, pulling. His mouth opened in a silent scream, but he didn't say anything. When I looked down, his cock was throbbing, the helmet shiny, and pre-cum dribbling. I raked my fingernails down across his abdomen--he seemed to love that. Then I scratched up his inner thighs towards his crotch and he threw his head back, eyes closed, mouth open. Now I really wanted him to cum. I wanted him to get his punishment from Mary. Punishment he deserved, for fancying me. When he had recovered from my scratching, he looked at me again. I smiled at him and kicked off my shoes. Then in a single movement I pulled my T shirt off over my head and revealed my breasts. He groaned and couldn't stop himself from looking down at me.

"You want to cum, don't you Nigel."

He shook his head.

"You may shake your head, but your body is saying yes, isn't it."

He shook his head more vehemently this time. As I held his eyes, I knelt down in front of him. Cradling my own breasts I pressed them against his crotch, supporting his balls. I let my tongue flick out and brush against his member. Nigel gasped. I took the tip of his cock in my hand and fed it between my breasts, then as I rocked back and forth; I made him titty-fuck me. "Oh God." he mumbled; more pre-cum dribbled form his cock, but he didn't ejaculate. I pressed my tits more firmly together and fucked him harder but all he could do was close his eyes and look away. The strain must have been enormous. When I released his cock from my cleavage, it sprang upwards. I leaned forward and licked up and down his shaft before taking his balls into my mouth. He was hairless down there, and I guessed he did that to please his Mistress. Well I was pleasing him now, but I didn't know how much more he could take.

I licked back up to the head of his cock, and traced the shape of his glans with the tip of my tongue. I tasted his pre-cum and then opened my mouth to take him. Tongue pressed against his shaft, I pushed forwards, taking in one, two, three, four inches. Then I rocked back and forth. Any other man would have thrust forward, wanting to fuck my mouth, and I felt twinges as if Nigel wanted to do the same. But he couldn't bring himself to. He knew--much better than I--what punishment lay in store for him if he came.

My tits and my mouth weren't enough. But I wasn't beaten yet. I so wanted to see Nigel punished--not because I disliked him, but through my own curiosity--what would Mary do to him? I stood up and gently wanked his throbbing cock for a minute. Turning away from him, I undid my jeans and bent at the waist to drop them to my ankles. That got a groan, and, as I looked over my shoulder I saw Nigel's cock twitching uncontrollably. Mary smiled over at me, standing against the wall, tapping her crop against her own thigh nonchalantly as if biding her time. I stepped out of my jeans and let Nigel take me in. He couldn't take his eyes off me. I cradled my boobs and stepped closer, then flicked my own nipple with the tip of my tongue so he groaned again.

I took Nigel's cock in my hand and turned away from him; bending at the waist once more, and positioning his stiff throbbing cock in the cleft of my arse. "Oh God." He said, finally. I rocked back and forth, so his cock slid along my cleft. Then re-positioned it between my lips. I rocked back just a tiny bit--a fraction of an inch; Nigel whimpered like he was beaten. I was so wet, so horny. I wanted a good fucking even though I was still sore from that rugby team. I braced myself and rocked back, hard this time, pushing his cock into me, even as he resisted. I pushed back and back taking his whole length into me in a single thrust. Nigel cried out, and started to cry. "Oh God. Oh no, oh no." He was shaking his head back and forth as I slipped my dripping cunt back off his rod. Then I pushed back and again took his whole length into me. "Oh Fuck." he said, and I could feel him throbbing even more. One last time I pushed back and enveloped his cock in my hot, tight pussy. "Sorry, Mistress. No..." he wailed. I slipped his cock from my pussy and knelt in front of him. I wanked his cock furiously until, with tears running down his face he ejaculated--hot spunk all over my face and tits.

Nigel was in so much trouble, and I was delighted.